Bus Stop
by Marmalade Fever
Summary: Every morning, Draco and Hermione meet at the bus stop. A romance revolving around an umbrella. DMHG Post HBP COMPLETE Winner at the Dramione Awards.
1. Parts One and Two

Bus Stop—Parts 1 and 2

By Marmalade Fever

Disclaimer: I do not own nor claim the Harry Potter series by J.K. Rowling.

Author's Note: This is based on a song called Bus Stop. I highly recommend you all listen to it if you ever get a chance.

Part 1

It was raining, and Hermione was running through the light summer storm, her clunky heels scraping on the wet sidewalk. Out of breath, she came to a stop, shivering with cold. The man beside her did not turn to look at her but calmly asked her to share his umbrella. She thanked him briefly before he turned, his black umbrella sheltering her at once. The slight smile she had been about to greet him with disappeared as she got a good look at him.

"Malfoy?" she asked, dazzled at the appearance of a man she hadn't seen in nearly ten years.

"Granger?" he asked indignantly. He looked down at his hand that was holding his umbrella, but he didn't move it away. "Fancy seeing you here," he said shortly.

"Yes, I would say the same thing," she replied. "Are you waiting for the bus?"

"Oh no," he said sarcastically, "I just enjoy standing on sidewalks in the middle of nowhere while it's raining. It's refreshing, you know?" He was wearing an olive trench coat and a brimmed hat, looking strangely as if he had just stepped out of a fifty's detective story. "And you, Granger, are you taking the bus?"

"No more than you are," she replied snippily. She looked at him, puzzled. "What I don't get is why. Why on earth would _you_ of all people be taking the _bus_?"

He smirked at her. "My P.O." he said simply.

"P.O.?" Hermione asked, confused.

He nodded then rolled up his pant leg slightly to reveal a metal band around his ankle. "Parole Officer," he explained. "Not allowed to do magic," he added, surreptitiously.

"Oh," Hermione said, flushing scarlet. "I didn't know."

He examined her. "So what's your story? Why are _you_ taking the bus?"

She sighed. "My great-aunt lives down the block. She doesn't know about my…" she lowered her voice, "abilities. I know she's watching me through her window, so I can't just flit away." She paused. "She's very ill," she explained.

"I see," he replied. They stood in silence for a while, Hermione rolling up her sleeve to check her watch.

"It's a very nice umbrella," she said at last.

He looked for a moment as if he was going to laugh at her. "It had better be. It cost fifty galleons from Burgleman's."

"For an umbrella?" she asked, her mouth dropping open.

He nodded. "Only the best for yours truly," he said, smirking at her. "I never leave home without it."

Hermione frowned. "You don't have a wand stashed in it?" she asked. A couple standing nearby stared at them as if they were both quite insane.

He rolled his eyes. "Oh, please. If I did, do you think I'd be telling _you_?"

"From your tone, I suppose not." Hermione crossed her arms and stared resolutely down the soggy street.

"Cold?" he asked.

"Just a bit," she admitted. "Why, going to offer me your coat?"

He laughed. "No. Although, I am sure that would make an excellent story to tell around the Weasley dinner table." He paused. "Tell me, Granger, did the two of you end up together?"

Hermione didn't turn to face him. "Not that it's any of your business, but no."

"No?" he asked. "Now that is surprising. You know this means Goyle owes me ten galleons?"

She turned to give him a look of disbelief. "You've been betting on my relationship with Ron?"

He shrugged. "It was an easy win."

Her mouth opened wide. "Easy win? What is that supposed to mean?"

He smirked. "For once, Granger, I'm going to pay you a compliment. Don't let it go to your head. You're too good for him. Simple as that."

She was astounded. "You think so? He is a pureblood, you know," she reminded.

"And too dumb to know that if you stick your finger in an electric socket, you're going to get zapped," he said lazily.

"How would you know…"

"And anyway, Granger, you're much better looking than he is, any day."

"Oho, compliment number two," she said, amused. "What's next? Going to tell me I'm too good for you, now, eh?"

He didn't answer. "That's my bus," he said, pointing down the street. "Lucky number fifty-two."

She raised an eyebrow. "Not lucky number seven?"

He turned and shook his head. "Not all numbers are lucky for everyone," he said.

"And why exactly is fifty-two lucky for you?" she asked, moving some of her damp hair aside.

He looked at her for a moment. "Because that bus hasn't exploded on me yet," he answered.

Hermione frowned. "Well, I can tell you now that fifty-two isn't lucky for me at all."

"Oh," he said, "and why's that?" The bus had just come to a rolling stop.

"Because that's my bus, too, meaning that I have to share it with you." She tried to look upset about it, but it was hard when Malfoy was chuckling.

"I don't think you really mind that much, Granger," he commented, as other passengers boarded and got off. They joined the queue and got on, each of them showing the driver their bus pass.

"Oh, no," she mumbled, looking around.

"What?" he asked.

"The only empty seat," she said, pointing. "Now I have to sit next to you, too."

He smirked, though she could only see half of his face. He took the window seat while she sat beside the aisle. "Isn't this cozy?" he asked, enjoying himself.

"Only if you've forgotten out mutual enmity," she said, not meeting his gaze.

"Oh, don't worry, Granger. I haven't," he assured her.

The bus rumbled forward, and the two sat stiffly next to one another. Hermione reached into her purse and pulled out a pack of gum. "Want a piece?" she asked.

He shook his head. "Nah, don't care for it much," he said.

She blinked. "You don't care for _gum_?"

He shook his head again. "Correction, I don't care for _muggle_ gum. Too much artificial sugar."

She unwrapped a piece for herself. "It's better than rotting your teeth out," she said.

He shrugged. "I don't sacrifice quality, even if it is for the sake of my teeth." He took his hat off and twirled it on his finger.

"You know," she said slowly, "not all muggle gum has artificial sugar." She kept her voice low.

"And Honey Dukes is still better," he pointed out. "Besides, what's the big point about chewing on something if you don't get to swallow?"

"Flavor and texture," she answered.

He laughed. "And let me guess… a jaw workout?"

"Why's that funny?" she asked, unfolding her arms.

"Because eating does the same thing," he said, "and you get nutrients. How about that?"

"Well, with gum you won't gain any weight," she pointed out, "so long as it's…"

"Artificial sugar, I know," he said. "Granted, the amount of sugar in sugared gum wouldn't amount to very much." He stopped twirling his hat and put it back on his head. "So where're you headed, anyway?"

"Home," she said, shrugging.

"Still live with the parents?" he asked casually.

She stared at him. "Malfoy, I'm twenty-eight. I should say not."

"You never know," he replied, staring out the window. "Live alone?"

She frowned. "I'm not entirely sure I should tell you."

"Just curious. I'm not going to break-in or anything," he said, turning back to her. "I might be a criminal, but I'm not a petty criminal."

"Well, now _there's_ a load off my mind," she muttered. The bus slowed. "This is my stop," she said.

"Have fun living either alone or not," he said, smirking at her.

"Good-bye, Malfoy," she said, and walked away.

Part 2

The following morning was cloudy, and Hermione wore a warm cardigan. Her aunt had made her play cards with her. She said that if they only had two more players, they could start their own bridge club. Her aunt thanked her kindly for visiting, gave her a wet, orangey kiss on the forehead, and sent her on her way.

After stopping to rub the remains of lipstick off of her brow, Hermione continued down the sidewalk to the bus stop. She had been waiting there for all of two minutes when she spotted someone coming down the sidewalk from the opposite direction.

"Hello, again," Hermione greeted unenthusiastically.

"Hello to you too, Granger," Malfoy said. He was swinging his umbrella in his hand. To her surprise, he opened it, and stood next to her so that they were each under it.

"You do know it's not raining, don't you?" she asked.

He shrugged, a small twinkle in his eye. "I thought it was our own little tradition," he explained in the most jovial voice she'd ever heard from him.

"You can't have a tradition after only one day," she objected, though she felt a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

He tutted. "Why sure you can. Every tradition starts with a first time. It's just a matter of keeping it up," he explained, sending her a wink.

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Who are you, and what have you done with Draco Malfoy?"

He laughed. "Granger, Granger, Granger… Give me a break."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "So what are you doing in this neck of London?"

He considered the question. "Not very much. I'm mostly just standing, holding an umbrella, and talking to you."

"That's not what I meant," she said, punching him lightly on the arm.

He sighed. "If you must know, I'm going to work."

"Work?" she asked.

He nodded. "This bus drops me off not too far from the Leaky Cauldron. From there I can walk."

Hermione scrunched up her nose. "But then, why are you _here_ in the first place?" she asked.

He smirked. "I take it you've never been down that alley way next to the shoe store?" She shook her head. "The Manor is disillusioned to muggles between two knick-knack shops over there. It's amazing how they don't notice something that's half a kilometer wide."

Hermione sucked in a breath. "Your property is half a kilometer wide?"

"And fifteen deep," he added.

"Fif—in the middle of muggle London?" she asked in astonishment.

He nodded. "Granted, the Manor was built before that part of the city was industrialized," he added.

"So tell me," she asked, after a pause, "why would you need to work if you're as extremely rich as you like to suggest?"

He smirked and lifted his pant leg to reveal his metal ring. "P.O. makes me," he explained. "I have to have a job or else it's off to Azzy for me."

"Oh," she replied unsteadily.

"I know you're dying to know," he said.

"Know what?"

"You want to know what I did," he replied. "You want to know why I have a Parole Officer."

She shook her head. "Knowing you, I think I can guess."

"_Do_ you know me? You probably think it's because of what happened sixth year, don't you?" he asked casually, switching his umbrella to his other hand.

"I would certainly think it had something to do with it," she responded.

"I served a five year term for that," he told her. "But I got the P.O. for a different reason."

"And what would that be?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Embezzlement," he said.

"Embezzlement?" she asked, frowning.

"That's it," he said. "Nothing more, nothing less."

"What sort of embezzlement?" she asked.

He smirked. "Just a few minor changes to my dear old Dad's will," he said.

She raised an eyebrow. "What, did he only give you ninety-eight percent of his money instead of the whole shebang?" she asked.

He rolled his eyes. "He only gave me the Manor," he said. "I just arranged to give myself a bit of spending money as well."

"You're broke, then?" she asked, disbelief evident in the way her eyebrows arched.

He laughed. "No. I sold an antique vase for ten thousand galleons. I'm hardly 'broke.'"

She blinked at him, noticing that the clouds had finally decided to let some rain loose upon them. "That would explain the expensive umbrella," she remarked, unconsciously scooting closer to him to avoid the rain.

"So you really aren't with the Weasel, eh?" he asked.

She shook her head. "We broke it off years ago."

"How about Potter?"

She frowned. "Ew, no."

Malfoy laughed. "Not your type?"

She shook her head. "We're much too good of friends for that. I really couldn't imagine being anything more."

He kicked his foot at a puddle. "I was just thinking of him the other day. I came to this weird realization that his name rhymes with fairy water. I could have done something with that…"

"I think that's the bus," Hermione commented, staring blearily down the street.

"No," he said. "That's the number fifty. It takes a left over there," he said, pointing.

"You're just a fountain of useful information, aren't you?" she asked.

"Sort of the way you're a fountain of useless information?" he asked snidely.

"Hey!" she objected.

"What year did the Sumerian elves rise against their overlords by refusing to polish silver for a week?"

"1253," she answered. "And that's not useless. It's very interesting information that I can use to my advantage in my campaign for House Elf rights."

"I cannot believe you knew that," he said. "How can you possibly know that?"

She shrugged. "Some of us were paying attention to Professor Binns," she explained.

"And I'm sure the old goat would be happy—if he's indeed still capable of emotion, or even taking notice of anything—to know that a student was actually paying attention to him. Believe you me, you had to be the only one. The only reason I passed my OWL's was because I had read the textbook."

"You can read?" she asked, mocking disbelief.

He rolled his eyes at her. "Now that," he said, "is our bus." He pointed down the street to a jalopy omnibus coming to a halt before them.

"Oh, lucky number fifty-two, is it?" she asked, peering at the bus as its door opened. A queue of muggles formed in front of them, and they hurried to get in line.

"It hasn't exploded yet," Malfoy said with a smirk.

"That's all anyone could ask for in a bus, I suppose," she commented, stepping up and showing the driver her pass. Malfoy followed her to a seat near the rear and sat down beside her. "You do realize there are empty seats elsewhere, don't you?"

He shrugged, tucking his umbrella under the seat. "And what—sit with perfect strangers? _Muggles_, no less? I'll take my chances with you."

"You're much too kind to me," she said with a sniff.

He chuckled. "Think nothing of it," he said with a brandish of his hand. He sighed. "So, going to tell me if you live alone or not?"

She wrinkled her nose at him. "Why are you so obsessed? And why should I tell you, anyway? For all I know, you might want to…"

"Do something fiendish to you when you're all alone in your little flat?" he asked. "I told you, I may be a criminal…"

"But you're not a petty criminal. I've got that," she finished.

"At least tell me if you're married," he compromised.

She lifted her eyes to the heavens. "No," she answered.

"Interesting," he said, scratching his chin. "Fiancé?"

She laughed. "No."

"Boyfriend?" he tried.

She raised her eyebrow at him. "What do you think?"

He pretended to think a moment. "Girlfriend?"

She punched him in the arm. "No. You're awfully curious for someone who doesn't even like me," she observed.

"And you're awfully keen to drive away the first man to take any sort of interest in you in what's probably been a very long time," he pointed out.

She snorted. "Interest? Is that what this is?"

He fixed a dashing smile onto his face. "Just picture it Granger—you, me… an umbrella makes three?"

She stared at him for a moment. "Have you been drinking?"

He stuck his tongue out. "Obviously you have no sense of humor whatsoever."

"Oh," she said, slightly crestfallen. "Ha ha."

"_Anyway_, I'm certainly glad we aren't talking about gum, today. Your love life, if dull, is certainly more interesting than chewing gum," he remarked.

"Thank you, I suppose," she said.

"No problem," he replied gallantly.

"And what about _you_?" she asked. "Any romances in your life?"

He sighed. "I'm afraid I've spent much too much time in Azzy to make many connections at all, romantic or otherwise. Although, there was that very nice looking dementor…" He winked.

She laughed. "There's no fairness in making fun of my nonexistent love life if yours is the same way," she pointed out.

"Fairness-shmairness, it's still fun." He stretched his arms. "Why must these seats be so cramped? There's hardly enough space for two."

She nodded in agreement. "We're almost to my stop," she pointed out.

"In which case, Fräulein, I'll bid you auf Wiedersehen," he said.

"You know," she said, "I think you might have gone a little mad around all of those dementors."

"Perfectly possible," he said, relaxing into his seat. "See you around, Granger."

The bus pulled to a stop, and she marched down the aisle, pausing momentarily to look at him before leaving. She could have sworn he'd sent her a wink.

A.N.: Now hold on, now. This isn't going to be a very long fic. Only a few chapters. I don't want it interfering with The Witness and the Wife. If you're interested in the song this is based on, it's called Bus Stop and is by The Hollies.


	2. Parts Three and Four

Bus Stop—Parts 3 and 4

By Marmalade Fever

Part 3

It was raining, but what else was new? Hermione drudged along the sidewalk, umbrella-less again. She was not exactly surprised to see Malfoy, waiting at the bus stop, as per usual. He turned, nodded at her, and adjusted his umbrella to give her some room beneath it.

"Morning," he greeted casually. He eyed the bags she was carrying. "What's all this?"

"Oh, nothing," she replied. "I've just been shopping, that's all."

"Shopping?" he asked, sounding somewhat surprised. "Really? You?"

She gave him a look. "What's that supposed to mean? Everyone shops."

"And I suppose you're included in the ranks of everyone, Granger?" he asked, staring a hole into one of her bags. "What've you got, there?"

Hermione coughed into her hand. "What? You want to know what I bought?"

He shrugged. "It's not as if I have anything better to do, you know," he explained. "Well, come out with it," he added, gesturing to her.

Hermione raised a brown eyebrow at him, but she shrugged. She opened one of her bags and removed a casual burgundy sweater. Malfoy snatched it from her and held it up for closer inspection. "What?" she asked.

"Nothing," he said at first. "It's just that it seems a little too nice for someone who's usually so fashion-challenged."

Hermione tutted. "I'm not sure if I should take that as a compliment or an insult."

"What else have you got?" he asked. He reached into the bag and pulled out a salmon-colored knit top. "Ooh, now this I like," he praised.

"Well, I'm not going to let you borrow it," she warned, moving to take it back from him.

Malfoy held up a hand. "Not so fast. Did you pick this out?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes, now give it back."

"No one else shopping with you?" he asked.

Hermione paused. "No, my aunt came with me," she said.

He half-frowned. "Hmm… tell your aunt that she has excellent taste." He handed the article back to her and reached into another bag to produce a slinky purple dress.

"_Malfoy_," she intoned, as he continued to stare at the gown.

"Hold on, I'm thinking," he said.

"Ha!" she laughed. "You? Thinking?"

He smirked at her. "I was just imagining what you'd look like wearing this thing," he said.

Hermione blushed. "And?"

"Not bad," he said, sending her a wink. She blushed more furiously.

"Okay, now that's really enough." She grabbed the dress from him and stuffed it frantically back into her bag.

"It's nothing to be embarrassed about," he said, twisting the umbrella in his hand.

"Who's embarrassed?" she said hotly.

"Why you, of course," he informed. He smirked at her as she glared at him.

"You _do_ remember that I'm muggleborn, don't you?" she asked.

"_So?_ Doesn't change how you look, now does it?"

She frowned. "You're really rather degrading to womankind, you know?"

He laughed. "All that from a compliment. Good grief, Granger, _relax_."

Hermione scowled and crossed her arms, staring out across the street. "Isn't the bus here, yet?" she asked impatiently. "I'm very ready to be rid of you."

Malfoy smirked. "Why? Do I bother you that much?"

Hermione turned and raised her eyebrow at him. "I'm not dignifying that question with a response."

His smirk widened. "It looks like some things do change." Hermione smiled slightly at this. Malfoy reached his hand into his coat pocket and removed a small bag. "Want one?" he asked.

Hermione looked at the jelly beans in his hand and shook her head no. "I don't have much luck with Bertie Bott's."

Malfoy rifled through the bag and removed a pink one. "Try this," he said, placing it in her hand.

Hermione wrinkled her nose at him, sniffed the bean, and threw it over her shoulder. "No thanks," she said.

He stared open mouthed at her. "That was strawberry," he stated.

"And why should I believe you?" she asked huffily.

Malfoy frowned at her, but then he shrugged with a smirk in place. "No reason, I suppose."

"Exactly. I have no reason for trusting you at all," Hermione agreed.

"Although…" Malfoy continued, "I do think I'm being rather dashing by allowing you to share my umbrella. I could very easily, I don't know, kick you perhaps, and send you sprawling into a mudpuddle. And we both know how much you _love_ mud. It's in your blood," he added as an afterthought, chuckling.

Hermione stared at him, mouth agape. "You wouldn't dare!"

He shrugged. "Then I guess you'll just have to trust your instincts, eh?" He reached into his bag and removed a bright yellow bean. "Lemon?"

Hermione laughed. "I've seen that color before, you know."

Malfoy's debonair expression faltered. "Oh. Darn."

Hermione sighed, yanked the bag of beans from his hand, searched through it, withdrew a pink one, and inserted it into her mouth. "It was strawberry after all," she mused.

Malfoy smirked. "I guess you really do have to just trust your instincts where I'm concerned, eh?"

Hermione nodded. "There's the old number fifty-two," she remarked, pointing down the street to the oncoming bus. With a sigh, it stopped before them.

"Ladies first," Malfoy declared, giving her a mock bow.

Hermione frowned at him, but entered the bus and made a beeline toward a seat where a nice looking old man was snoozing. She sat down, and Malfoy, his face furled into a frown, sat down in the seat directly behind her, beside a woman who was fastidiously reading a book about apricots. Just as the bus began rumbling down the street, Hermione gave a small shout as Malfoy poked her shoulder blade. She sheepishly turned to him. "May I help you?"

Malfoy grinned winningly. "You know, there was a fully empty seat right over there." He pointed.

"I know," she answered aloofly.

Malfoy pouted. "Come on, Granger! Don't tell me you're afraid of my cooties, or whatever that nonsense is? I can assure you, I'm in perfect health. Unlike you. You coughed earlier."

Hermione groaned. "And since when have you ever wanted to sit next to me?"

"Yesterday," he answered.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Before that."

He pretended to think. "I do remember wanting to sit next to you during certain exams…" he said, trailing off. He winked at her.

Hermione clucked her tongue. "For Heaven's sake! Just leave me alone, will you?"

Malfoy pretended to think for a moment. "No," he said. "I'd rather not."

Hermione groaned. "Of all the bus stops in all of London…"

"Funny how fate works," Malfoy said impishly.

Hermione turned her head toward the front, but Malfoy poked her shoulder again. Her head whipped around, lightning-fast. "Yes?"

"Jelly bean?" He held another pink bean out to her.

"No, thank you," she answered.

"Suit yourself." He popped it into his mouth, and no sooner had his lips closed than he opened them again to spit it out. "Ew!"

"What?" she asked.

"Cotton candy… I hate the stuff."

"You're utterly hopeless," Hermione said, waving him off and turning back to the front. Malfoy kicked the back of her seat. Hermione turned to give him the evil eye, grew tired of it quickly, and moved to the empty seat Malfoy had pointed out previously. He moved over to sit beside her.

"Now who's hopeless?" he asked.

Hermione rolled her eyes and waited for the bus to reach her stop. "You know you're bloody annoying?" she asked.

Malfoy laughed. "It's my specialty."

Part 4

The little old lady bustled much more quickly around her flat than Hermione would have thought possible. The woman was eighty-seven years old, arthritic, and appeared quite feeble. "Well," Hermione announced, after watching her great-aunt Hattie shoot a worn-out sponge into the bin just as well as any chaser, "I think I had better get going now."

Her aunt smiled. "That's nice dear. Off you go." There was a funny little smile on her face that Hermione didn't quite know how to interpret. She was even more confused when her aunt giggled slightly under her breath.

"Is there something funny that I'm missing?" Hermione asked, looking curiously at her grizzled little aunt.

For a moment her aunt seemed to consider her options. After a while she said in a strangely innocent way, "That nice gentleman you've been waiting for the bus with... he's rather good looking, wouldn't you agree?"

Hermione was flabbergasted and, indeed, stood sputtering for a good three seconds. "Well, um..." She preferred not to answer.

"Of course you do have eyes dear, so I can't imagine you not noticing," Hattie said, just as innocently as a little lamb.

"How do you..." Hermione trailed off, completely puzzled.

"Oh, that's easy. I've been watching you from my window. He is a rather tall gentleman, isn't he?" Something about her aunt's attitude gave Hermione the impression that she was still hiding something from her.

"Yes, he's tall," Hermione acquiesced.

"And that hair," her aunt continued. "I haven't seen hair as perfectly platinum since my dear Harold was still alive... Anyway, off you go!" With much gusto, the little woman started pushing Hermione toward the exit.

"Wait a minute," Hermione objected.

"Yes?" her aunt asked, still looking so perfectly innocent that she was made to look guilty.

"You hadn't seen him before I started coming to visit you in the mornings, had you?"

Hattie didn't answer directly. "He's a very nice-looking man. And he must be a gentleman, offering you his umbrella like that. And I've always believed that a woman of a certain age should be settled down."

Hermione, for the life of her, didn't know what to respond to that, so she simply went out the door, still shell-shocked. If she wasn't mistaken, her aunt was setting her up with Malfoy. What was wrong with the world?

With uncertain steps she walked through the light drizzle all the way to the curb, where, sure enough, Malfoy was waiting with umbrella in hand.

"And how are you this fine summer day?" he asked, stepping aside to give her some room beneath his umbrella.

Hermione didn't answer at first. "Fine," she said at last.

"_Oo_kay," he said, smirking at her. "Now it's your turn to ask me how I am. Surely someone has taught you some manners. You seem to pick up on everything else without much pause."

"How are you?" Hermione asked forcedly.

"I couldn't be better!" he answered. He lowered his voice to a whisper. "Now you ask me _why_."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "_Why_?"

"Because I just succeeded in getting you to ask how I am!" he said, grinning.

Hermione just stood there speechless for a moment. "And how's your mental health? Any blackouts? Dizziness? Do you see people who aren't there?"

He laughed. "Oh, Granger. Play nice." He clapped a hand on her shoulder, and Hermione felt an unbidden chill sweep over her. Malfoy removed his hand after what felt to Hermione like a prolonged amount of time. "So, doing anything interesting today?" he asked.

Hermione sighed, glad to have at least a small sense of normality returned to her. "No, nothing interesting. I'm just going to do some chores and go to work."

He shrugged. "Nothing wrong with some good, honest labor."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Are you quite sure you aren't mentally ill?"

Malfoy snorted rather unbecomingly. "Quite sure. Thank you for asking." He paused. "Any plans for the weekend?"

Hermione's eyebrows screwed together. "No… why?"

"Just curious," he answered. Hermione let go of a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. "What? You didn't think I was going to suggest we do something together, did you?" Rather than scowling the way Hermione would have thought, he continued smirking in a rather friendly, if teasing, manner.

"No, no. Of course not," she answered. In a rush to change subjects, Hermione blurted out the first thought that came to her mind. "What's your favorite poem?"

Now he did scowl. "I don't really like poetry." He paused. "You know, we could…"

"My favorite is Ozymandias, by Percy Bysshe Shelly. It takes a couple of reads, but it's very…"

"Don't interrupt me, Granger. It's rude," Malfoy said. He was attempting to look upset, but instead he came off looking like he had to sneeze.

Now Hermione paused. "What were you going to say?"

He crossed his arms, one hand still holding the umbrella handle, and lifted his nose into the air. "I don't think I'm going to tell you now."

Hermione pretended to pout. "Then don't interrupt _me_, will you?"

He rolled his lips beneath his nose. "Fine. What were you saying about this Ozy-whoozits?"

"Ozymandias. It's about a statue among ruins." She waited for him to respond.

"_And_?" he asked.

"The statue is of Ozymandias. He was an ancient vainglorious ruler who gloated over what he'd built in his life. But everything…"

"Was ruined, you said that," Malfoy answered. "Is there supposed to be a moral in your telling me this?"

Hermione looked guilty. "Erm, _no_. No, not exactly. I was just…"

"Telling me about your favorite poem?" he asked. She nodded. "Good. I hate moralistic drivel."

Hermione laughed. "I can imagine you would."

"Don't even start with me, Granger," he said. "And don't try sitting where I can't sit next to you, either."

"_Ever_?" Hermione asked facetiously.

He rolled his eyes. "Are you absolutely certain you were the smartest witch in our year?" One of the muggles in the queue frowned at them.

Hermione smiled. "Quite certain."

Looking off down the road, Malfoy grinned. "Ah, fifty-two."

"And soon enough I'll be rid of you," Hermione singsonged.

"Doubtful," he muttered. Hermione sighed in agreement.

"So," he said, as they boarded the bus and sat down toward the back, "how's the aunt? Still ill?" The mention of her aunt, especially by _him_, suddenly gave her pulse a jumpstart. "Um, Granger? Yoo-whoo?" He waved a hand in front of her face.

"Good. She's good," she answered, with no undue amount of fidgeting. Malfoy, however, didn't drop the scent.

"What?" He was smirking like the devil he was. "There's something you're dying to tell me, I'm sure. Or the opposite. Either one, really."

Hermione shook her head. "No, no. It's nothing."

"It?" he asked. "There's an 'it?' Even better!" He was positively beaming with unfounded joy.

"NO," she ground out.

"If you don't tell," he began, "I'll tickle you!" Hermione didn't doubt he would.

"I'll move seats," she said, beginning to stand up. He pulled her down again. To her horror, he kept his hand firmly around her wrist. "Fine," she spat. She sighed. "I think my aunt might be setting us up."

"Setting us up?" Obviously he didn't understand. "But she's muggle! What could she possibly do?"

Hermione looked heavenward. "Not that way, you great idiot. I meant… romantically."

It took a moment for him to digest this news. Then he started laughing like a maniac. She could honestly not remember a time in school that he had laughed quite so much as he had over the last four days. People were beginning to stare. His hand was _still_ latched firmly on her wrist. "She…" he gasped, "how?"

Hermione shrugged uncomfortably. "She probably saw you through her window at the bus stop."

He continued laughing hard, hitting his free hand against his leg in enthusiasm. "That's rich," he said, finally regaining control of his lungs. He finally released her wrist, only to wrap his arm around her shoulders. She blushed brilliant red. "Ah, Granger. My little _girlfriend_."

It was at that exact moment that the bus came to a rolling stop. Hermione hopped up and out of the bus without so much as a backwards glance.

A.N.: For those who were wondering Fräulein means Miss and auf Wiedersehen means good-bye in German. (So long, farewell, auf Wiedersehen, good-bye!) It took me awhile to finish writing this. These chapters are about twice the length I'm used to.


	3. Parts Five and Six

Bus Stop-Parts Five and Six

By Marmalade Fever

Part Five

A persistent frog in her throat constricted Hermione's airway during the entirety of her visit with her aunt that Friday morning. The idea of facing Malfoy that day, after his utter jubilance at the idea of their being set up romantically, scared her well enough to convince her not to take the number fifty-two bus but to wait for the next one instead. However, her aunt was not so easily put off.

"So I saw you speaking with the young gentleman again, yesterday," Hattie said, smiling over her flowered teacup. "You seem to get along swimmingly, my dear."

Hermione bit back a scoff. "Well enough, I suppose," she answered.

Her aunt Hattie took this as a much more affirmative answer than it really was, so she smiled brightly. "It's very nearly time for you to be off, my dear," said she, glancing at the clock.

Hermione stiffly uncrossed and recrossed her legs. "Are you sure you wouldn't rather that I stay with you awhile longer? You don't look very well today," she fibbed, hoping desperately to escape seeing the blond ferret yet again.

Her aunt clucked her tongue. "Nonsense, my dear! I feel as young and fresh as a bluebird just fledged! Now, off you go," she said, rising and pushing Hermione in the direction of the door.

Quite unwillingly, Hermione left. It didn't take a backward glance to inform her that her aunt was currently watching her every move from her window, so Hermione was forced to continue on to the bus stop on time. As she had more than expected, Malfoy was waiting at the stop, holding his umbrella high and proud, despite the near-total absence of clouds in the sky. He was whistling a cheerful tune as she approached, and he grinned widely at her as she came to a stop, just outside the confines of the umbrella.

"You can come closer, I won't bite," he informed, still grinning in that same way he had as she'd left him the day before. Hermione inched slightly closer, her arms crossed determinedly. From inside his trench coat he removed a long-stemmed yellow rose, which he handed to her. "My lady," he said with a smirk.

Hermione raised a single eyebrow at him, but accepted the trinket nonetheless. "Thank you," she said stiffly, the frog in her throat continuing to stay stiffly lodged.

"If I didn't know any better, Granger, I'd say you were snubbing me," Malfoy said, twirling the umbrella behind his shoulder.

"The absurdity of using an umbrella on a sunny day in July should be as good an excuse as any for my not wishing to be associated with you, Malfoy," she said, lifting her chin to soak in some of the soft rays.

He opened his mouth for a moment, then snapped it closed. "Your comebacks, amazingly, seem to improve. I'm quite impressed."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Hermione replied. Off in the distance she could just barely make out a few dark storm clouds beginning to head their way. As if on cue, a breeze ruffled past her, bringing goosebumps to her exposed arms.

"However," Malfoy continued, "it is not as terribly sunny today as I think you might be under the impression that it is. In fact, you look downright frozen." Hermione shook her head, though she did feel a need to wrap her arms tighter around herself that she would have liked. "Come now Granger, you somewhat resemble a popsicle," he observed.

"I'm fine," she ground out, busy staring down the street in hopes of spotting their bus. Alas, the jalopy old thing was nowhere to be seen.

Beside her, Malfoy groaned in irritation. "I can safely tell you you're not." Hermione rolled her eyes, and hugged herself tighter. One of the thorns in the rose's stem poked her uncomfortably.

Malfoy groaned again. "You know, I think you might be the most stubborn individual I've ever met. Your pride astounds me."

Hermione turned to him, disbelieving. "Me? I'm the prideful one?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "Haven't you ever noticed? '_Oh, teacher, I know the answer! I'm the smartest girl in the entire world! Notice me! Notice me!_'" he said in a fake girly voice.

"Hmph!" Hermione replied indignantly. "Well, how about you? '_I have more galleons than hairs on my head. I can trace back my lineage to the dawn of time. Everyone bow!'_"

Malfoy just laughed. "I never told anyone to bow to me. Well… except maybe Crabbe. He was really annoying me that day."

"Just the same," she continued, "if you're going to accuse me of pride, you had better look into the other side of that two-way mirror."

"You're still cold," he pointed out. "If I was feeling more gentlemanly I'd offer my coat, but since you've received my prior attentions so grumpily, I think I'll let you be."

"Attentions?" Hermione asked, one eyebrow raised. "Is that what you call this?"

"Come now, Granger, aren't I being a bit, okay, _a lot_ more civil than usual?" he asked.

Hermione sniffed. "I wasn't sure if you were being civil or just…" her mind drew a sudden blank.

"Well?" he asked.

"Just… Oh, hang it all. You've no reason to be civil to me at all," she said indignantly.

Malfoy folded his arms and looked down the street. "The bus is coming," he announced stiffly.

"I can see that. I do have eyes you know," she said, equally stiffly.

"Could have fooled me," he mumbled.

"What was that?" she asked. She had heard him; she just wasn't sure what he meant by it.

"I said, 'Could have fooled me.' You act quite blind at times." He took two strides forward and into the queue, Hermione following in his wake.

Hermione sniffed. "Never mind, don't tell me. I'm sure I don't want to know."

"You must be deaf as well," he added, as they moved slowly forward in line.

Hermione clucked her tongue. "I heard you. I just haven't managed to figure out your connotations, you great lump."

"You have a very strange way of showing your affection, Granger," he commented. Turning and sending her an unsettling sort of grin.

Hermione remained quiet as they climbed aboard the bus. She took a window seat while he took the aisle, his dry umbrella sitting between them. With a jerk, the bus took off. The silence was almost overbearing. "I just don't get you," she said at last. "You aren't like your old self at all."

He turned to her. "Oh really? And just how well did you know my so-called old self?"

Hermione paused. "Well enough to tell the difference."

Malfoy sighed heavily. For the first time in the last five days, he seemed tired to her. "Alright. I'll allow that I've changed. Happy?" Hermione shrugged. It was a minor and odd sort of victory. "But you've changed a bit too."

Hermione smoothed her fingers through her coarse hair, suddenly very nervous. "Have I?"

He nodded. "Sure. Everyone does. Your change just makes more sense for you. My change… mine isn't really normal."

Hermione closed her eyes and a vision of Azkaban filled her mind's eye. "It must have been horrible there," she whispered.

He didn't respond. After a few minutes, the bus pulled to a sleek stop, and Hermione stood, Malfoy's knees barring her way. As she brushed past them, the backs of her own bare kneecaps tingled. Her breath caught in her throat, and she knew he was staring at her as she got off.

She was still holding the yellow rose.

Part Six

Today was positively sunny. It was almost warm, even. Hermione's clunky heels thudded along the sidewalk in a way most unbefitting for summer. It was time to start wearing tennis shoes again. The weekend had passed uneventfully, and she had left her aunt to her own devices. Now, Monday, she felt suddenly refreshed. It wasn't until the sight of Malfoy's blond mop that her heart began hammering uncomfortably within her chest. As she drew nearer, her mouth fell into a little O.

Malfoy was not alone. Beside him, holding the umbrella, was a tall, thin man wearing a butler's uniform, a gold watch chair hanging from his pocket.

"Oh, hello Granger," Malfoy said, as she came to a stop a foot or two away from them.

"Malfoy," she greeted, her eyes going slowly back and forth between the two.

"Oh," he said, as if there was nothing unusual about the situation. "Hermione," he said, her own first name scaring her, "this is Jenkins."

Hermione gave Jenkins a small smile. "Madam," Jenkins said, inclining his head.

"Er, how do you do?" she asked.

Jenkins bowed his head. "Quite well, madam." Jenkins rotated a quarter turn, still holding the umbrella aloft. If he was embarrassed holding it on such a warm, rainless day, he didn't show it.

"Er," Hermione said, at a loss. She looked back at Malfoy, who was stretching his arms leisurely. "What's he doing here?" Hermione asked in a whisper.

"Oh, Jenkins? He's holding the umbrella," Malfoy said easily.

"Why?" Hermione asked.

"So I could have my hands free, obviously," he replied. "Holding that thing up was starting to get rather tiresome."

Hermione gave a slight nod, though her eyebrows remained crinkled. "Wouldn't it have been easier to just… I don't know, leave the umbrella at home?"

He gave her a look as if the thought hadn't even dared cross his mind. He yawned widely. "Easier but certainly not as sportsmanlike. I do hate breaking traditions, don't you?" Hermione bit her lip, not trusting herself to answer. Malfoy didn't wait for a response anyway. "Are you wearing a new fragrance, Granger?" he asked.

Hermione swallowed hard. "You… noticed?" It had been a half-conscious thought that morning to spritz on a bit of perfume, and now she suddenly regretted it.

He nodded. "I like it. What is that? Peppermint and orange peel?" Hermione nodded in the affirmative, waiting for her cheeks to return to a normal color. It didn't happen very fast. Malfoy actually bent forward and took a great whiff of her. "Yes, very nice."

"So," she said, when she was sure she could trust herself to speak again, "so, how was your weekend?"

He shrugged. "A bore. I went to three parties with three very dull bands. You?"

Hermione's mouth didn't seem to want to obey her commands. "I, er, I saw a play." This was only half-true. She'd watched a play on her television, alone, eating gingersnaps…

"Was it good?" he asked. She nodded. "I always liked the theatre."

"Me too," she answered.

Malfoy gave a low whistle. "You know what this means?" Hermione shook her head. "We have something in common. And they said it wasn't possible!"

Hermione smiled shyly. "A right miracle," she responded. "Enjoying your hands' freedom?" she asked.

A coy smile lit his face. "Oh yes, very much. Allows me to do things like this." He poked her in the arm.

Hermione pretended to grimace. "What was that for?"

"Fun," he answered. "You do remember fun, don't you Granger?"

Hermione sighed dramatically. "No, I'm afraid I've forgotten it completely."

He smirked. Very suddenly he placed a hand at either of her sides, lifted her up, and twirled her in a circle, Hermione shrieking. She caught her breath as he set her down again. "Now _that_ was fun," he said easily.

Hermione clutched her sides and glared as he started to chuckle. "You've more than just changed, you've gone ballistic."

"Oh, stop being a wet-blanket. You know you enjoyed it," he said, grinning at her. He put a hand on her should comradely.

Hermione gave him a false smile, which meant something like, "you're crazy," which only made him laugh. His hand was still on her shoulder. "Your treatment of Jenkins is abominable, making him hold your umbrella like this," she said after a moment.

Malfoy waved his free hand dismissively. "You're the one speaking like he isn't here. You don't mind, do you Jenkins?"

Jenkins made a sharp quarter turn to face them, his face emotionless. "I do not, sir." He then made an abrupt quarter turn in the opposite direction. Hermione just frowned at the butler's back.

"So," Malfoy said, pretending as if Jenkins hardly even existed, "what to talk about next, I wonder?" He tapped his chin contemplatively. "Did that rose I gave you find a good home?"

Hermione nodded, trying not to blush. She had placed the single flower in a vase of water on her windowsill. Harry had come over Saturday and said that it looked nice there and wondered where it had come from, whether Hermione had an admirer she hadn't mentioned before. She hadn't answered. "It's in a vase," she answered, though she fully planned to press it before it started to fade.

Malfoy looked left then right conspiratorially, then reached a hand into his jacket and removed a pink rose, this one only just beginning to open. Hermione blushed further as he handed it to her. She hated to think of the implications. "Thank you," she said, smiling softly.

He shrugged. "A rose for a rose," he said, not elaborating. Something inside Hermione beamed like a pretty little candle. She sniffed the flower. "Is that bus here yet or what?" Malfoy grumbled, poking Jenkins in the shoulder to ask if he'd spotted it yet. The answer was a clipped negative.

"What time do you have to be at work?" Hermione asked, unconsciously smoothing her hair back behind her ears.

Malfoy shrugged. "I've got a good half hour. What time do you have to be home?"

Hermione snorted softly into her hand. "I don't have a curfew. It is only eleven in the morning. I don't work until four," she answered.

Malfoy tilted his head to the side. "Where do you work, anyway?"

"Daily Prophet, if you'll believe it," Hermione answered. "I'm next in line for editor."

Malfoy nodded approvingly. "That's pretty good."

"How about you? Where do you work?" Hermione asked, suddenly curious.

Malfoy smiled cheesily. "I have the easiest job ever, seeing how I only need it to make the P.O. happy. I test ice cream flavors for Florean Fortesque."

"And they make you go in five days a week?" Hermione asked, positively shell-shocked.

"For a whole ten minutes," he answered, laughing. "Fit my specifications exactly."

"How much do they pay you?" she asked, mouth still agape.

"I make three sickles an hour. And because I only work about an hour a week, not much," he answered, laughing. "But I did invent peanut butterscotch choco-berry delight. It's a best seller."

"I'm sure it is," Hermione said, still staring in disbelief.

Jenkins turned to them. "Your bus, sir, madam." He nodded to them.

"Very good, Jenkins," Malfoy said. "You're excused."

"Thank you, sir." Jenkins closed the umbrella, handed it to his master, and left them to their own devices.

As they joined the queue, Hermione held her pink rose up to her nose, sniffing it delicately. "You like that, I see," Malfoy commented, a slight smirk on his face. He seemed relaxed and easy-going now. Perhaps it was because Jenkins had left.

"I do," Hermione answered. "It was very sweet of you to give it to me." They stepped forward in line.

"I know," he answered.

"Very… uncharacteristic of you," she continued.

The side of his mouth curved into a lilting smile. "Is that a good thing?"

Hermione didn't know how to answer this but climbed onto the bus instead. They found an empty seat at the very back and sat down. "You didn't answer," he pointed out.

"It's a difficult question," she replied. "Yes. It's a good thing."

Malfoy looked smug. His hand rested on her knee, the umbrella lying on his other side. His fingers drummed. "What's wrong with your aunt?" he asked.

The question caught her off-guard. "Other than basic old age and arthritis? I'm not really sure. She had a bad spell last weekend, but she seems to be doing much better."

Malfoy smiled in an odd sort of way. "Interesting," he said. Hermione picked his hand up and moved it off of her knee, but he moved it back again and patted her knee good-naturedly.

They sat in pleasant company for the remainder of the ride. Hermione stood when the bus arrived at her stop. Malfoy gave her knee a final squeeze, and she left the bus with a whirl of excited butterflies in her stomach, her pink rose pressed to her chest.

A.N.: Sorry that took so long. I finally got The Witness and the Wife finished. I'm thinking maybe one or two more chapters of this. If I had wanted, I think I could have actually made this the final chapter, but I'll go a bit longer, I think. If I was titling these chapters, I think this one would be called "Roses and Knees." lol


	4. Parts Seven and Eight

Bus Stop-Parts Seven and Eight

By Marmalade Fever

Part Seven (Tuesday)

Hermione's aunt dismissed her early, patting her on the back and shoving her through the door before locking it so that there was no way to linger. Hermione was beginning to have her doubts that the woman was even slightly ill. From what she could tell, Hattie was spryer than she was, not that Hermione was exactly what one would call limber.

She strode down the sidewalk, wind whipping her hair to and fro. Ahead of her, at the bus stop, Malfoy was standing, thankfully, alone, the umbrella waving above his head. "Morning," he greeted, as she approached. He was having trouble holding onto the umbrella handle, the wind wanting to take it for a ride.

"Morning," she greeted back, taking her usual place beside him.

"How goes it?" he asked, now wrapping his other hand around the umbrella.

Hermione shrugged. "Not bad, you?"

"I'd be better if this blasted wind would stop blasting," he observed.

Hermione couldn't help but smirk at his dilemma. "You poor boy."

Now it was Malfoy's turn to smirk as he reached one hand into his trench coat and removed a lacy white parasol with pink ribbons. "For you," he said.

Hermione frowned slightly. "A parasol?" she asked, taking it from him.

"A parasol," he confirmed. "From the Latin, meaning under sun."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "You just made that up, didn't you?"

He shrugged noncommittally. "Open it up and join the fun." He clutched a little tighter at the umbrella.

Hermione began to open it but paused. "What if it blows away?"

"Then you'll just have to chase it five blocks," he answered.

Hermione sighed heavily and opened the parasol. Because of the lace, it didn't catch in the wind quite so much, the way a broken sail wouldn't work as well as a whole one. It was even prettier when open than it had been before, and Hermione found a pattern depicting the Lady of Shallot. "It's really beautiful," she praised, raising it up over her head and hanging onto it with some trouble.

"I believe a thank you is in order," Malfoy reminded.

Hermione smiled. "Thank you."

He grinned. "You're quite welcome. Now you look like Mary Poppins."

Hermione raised a single eyebrow. "And how do you know about Mary Poppins?. Surely you haven't seen the film."

Malfoy gave a barking laugh. "Land sakes, no. I read the book."

Hermione frowned. "She wasn't at all attractive in the book."

Malfoy smiled teasingly. "Yes, I know."

Hermione rolled her eyes at him. "Did she even have a parasol in the book? I don't quite remember."

He shrugged. "I don't either. But there was a photo on the cover with her holding one."

Now Hermione smiled. "That photo was probably from the movie. I don't mind being compared to Julie Andrews."

"You know I have no idea who that is?"

Hermione nodded. "By the way, you have your Latin wrong. Para comes from _parare_ which means to prepare or ward off and _sole_ means sun."

"Yeah, so?" he asked.

Hermione shrugged. "Just thought you should know."

"I don't need to know everything. At least I didn't say it was Spanish, _for sun._" He tugged at his umbrella handle to keep it from blowing away in a strong gust of wind; Hermione followed suit.

"I do like it," she added.

"I think I figured that out when you said it was beautiful and thanked me," Malfoy replied, giving up and actually closing his umbrella. He pulled his hat down closer around his ears.

"Well, if you're closing yours…" Hermione said, beginning to slide her parasol inward, but Malfoy stopped her.

"We can't both break the rules," he said, clicking his tongue.

"But…" Hermione began.

"No buts, Granger." He flashed her a toothy grin.

"You're weird."

"I know, love, and so are you." He stuck his tongue out at her.

"I think your rules need revising." Hermione folded one arm against her chest, the other still holding the parasol aloft.

Malfoy groaned and reopened his umbrella. "Fine. Happy, now?"

"Well, no. Not really. But thank you anyway." She grinned at him, and he grinned back.

"Anything of interest happen to you after we parted yesterday?" he asked.

Hermione shook her head. "No. It was an average day. Try any fantastic new ice cream flavors?"

Malfoy sent her one of those sly smiles of his, reached his hand into his coat pocket, and handed her a half-pint of gelato. "Cashew brickle fudge?" he offered.

Hermione just stared. "You had a parasol and ice cream in your coat? _Both_? Wasn't it awfully cold?"

He shrugged. "I also brought a spoon." He removed said utensil from a pocket, blew on it to get the lint off, and handed it to her, all while fighting his umbrella.

"You know I can't eat ice cream and hold a parasol at the same time?" Hermione asked doubtfully.

"Eat it on the bus," he suggested. He pointed a way off down the street to where the number fifty-two was rumbling toward them.

Hermione checked her watch. "That was certainly fast," she remarked.

"You sure?" Malfoy asked. "I thought it was just that old saying about time flying when your having fun, or something equally sappy like that." He laughed. "I ever tell you about the time I made Nott's alarm clock sprout wings? Now that was fun."

"I can't say you did," Hermione replied. "Not as if you tell me many anecdotes anyway."

"Note to self. Tell more anecdotes to Granger," Malfoy said, as if talking to an imaginary stenographer.

The bus rolled to a stop in front of them, and the door opened with a loud sigh. The queue was short today and they boarded the bus quickly. "Here's a spot," Hermione said, and she sat down next to a window. Malfoy, naturally, took the aisle seat beside her.

"Did you know," he said, as the bus began rolling down the street again and Hermione began to tuck into her ice cream, "that Mary Poppins was a parsel tongue?"

Hermione frowned, spoon halfway to her mouth. "You mean when they went to the party for her uncle at the zoo? The snake?"

He nodded. "I bet you she was related to Slytherin."

Hermione laughed. "I'm thinking it's a coincidence."

Malfoy shrugged. "Suit yourself. How's the gelato?"

Hermione smiled contentedly. "Cold but lovely. You spoil me, Malfoy."

"It's one of the things I do best." He paused for a long moment, as if thinking. "Granger, do you want to have children?"

Hermione swallowed her ice cream wrong and went into a coughing fit, her face turning steadily red. "What?" she asked, while he pounded on her back with his palm.

"I asked if you want to have children?" he repeated.

"With… with…" She couldn't quite bring herself to add "you" to the end of her question.

"You know… a bunch of fluffy-haired, buck-toothed little ones to pass your legacy of bull-headedness onto?" He gave a low whistle. "I imagine they'd give any teacher a migraine from the hand-raising alone."

Hermione coughed again. "Er, yes. Eventually I would, really."

"Excellent," he said, as much to himself as to her.

"Er," Hermione continued, not entirely sure how to proceed, "do you? Want to have children, that is?"

He raised one of his smooth blond eyebrows. "Granger, I'm the last remaining member of a very long line of prestigious purebloods. It kind of comes with the territory."

"I see." The word _pureblood_ rested on Hermione's ears heavily. She ate a bit more of her ice cream, thinking slowly. Malfoy produced a second spoon from his pocket and nicked a good quarter cup from her. "Malfoy," she asked at last, "you wouldn't… I mean… you would never… think about altering your, er…" She stopped lamely.

"Go on," he urged, licking some gelato off his thumb.

"I mean… do you intend to continue your line, _in the same way_?" she asked at last.

He scratched the side of his head. "What do you mean? Like, marry my mother?"

Hermione shook her head. "Um, no. I meant something more along the lines of…" She couldn't do it. She just couldn't ask.

"Anyone ever tell you it's rude to not finish a sentence?" He asked.

She gave him a side look. His hair was mussed from the wind, almost as if he had just finished a Quidditch match. His eyes were stormy gray, perfectly matching the storm clouds outside. When exactly was it that he had become so, so, so… devastatingly handsome? She changed tacts. "Do you think you would ever consider, you know, not, er…"

"Your stop, Granger."

"Er…"

"Granger, your stop," he repeated, smooshing his knees in to let her by. She stood, her knees brushing against his.

"Er… Thanks for the gelato," she finished. "Bye." She left the bus, feeling doubtful.

Part Eight (Wednesday)

The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and there was very little left of July. Hermione carried her new parasol over her shoulder, twirling it behind her, still thinking. She'd been thinking ever since she had gotten home the day before. She just couldn't stop thinking… thinking about _him_. It had been a week and a half now, and he had already monopolized her thoughts. She had come to the conclusion that, yes, indeed, she did have just the slightest amount of a crush on him. A crush, on Draco Malfoy. Of all people. The mere thought left her weak in the knees and stomach. Imagine what anyone would say if they found out. Would they find out? The only way they would is if she told them, and the only reason for her to do that was… well, if something were to come of it.

She walked anxiously down the sidewalk. Her aunt had gone shopping with her that morning and had insisted that Hermione change into her new summery dress before leaving the house. So there she was, wearing clunky, strappy heels, and a dress with peach roses imprinted on the gauzy fabric. This was just about as feminine as she got without a special occasion.

Malfoy, foreseeably, stood at the bus stop, that black umbrella above him regardless of the weather. She rather liked that. It made her feel… special. Not just any girl could get Draco Malfoy to hold an umbrella over his head on a cloudless day, could they? She certainly hoped not.

"Good morning," she sang out, as cheerfully as she could. He stopped, turned, and looked at her for a long moment. His eyes skimmed first to her face, then to her feet, then up to her face again.

"Good morning to you, too," he said, the slightest hint of a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. He, apparently, had gotten the memo about the weather and had left his trench coat at home, though he still wore long sleeves, perhaps to hide his Dark Mark from view, or maybe it was just to prevent a sunburn. He _was_ awfully pale.

"I'm glad the wind died down," she commented, twirling the parasol over her shoulder gaily.

"It was a bit gusty, wasn't it?" he asked. His eyes had dropped down to her calves again, staring. Hermione fidgeted and his eyes went back up to her face again. "New dress?"

She smiled graciously, nervously. "Yes. Do you like it?"

He didn't answer right away. "Peach roses?" he asked. "You like peach?"

"Well," Hermione faltered, "maybe no more than the next color…"

Seemingly out of nowhere, Hermione honestly couldn't tell, seeing how he wasn't wearing his coat today, Malfoy pulled out a peach rose. "For you," he said, still staring at her dress.

"Thank you," she said, a little taken aback. "That's very…"

"Don't mention it." He stared off down the street, wordlessly. Hermione wondered if there was something wrong.

"Can I ask you a question?" she asked, suddenly all nerves. He shrugged. "What are your intentions?" Her stomach curled into a ball inside her.

"My intentions?" he asked.

"Toward… toward me," she elaborated.

He didn't look at her or say anything for a long moment. "That's quite a loaded question."

"Well?" she asked. Her heart was beating abnormally fast.

"Well… What was that question you were going to ask me yesterday, just before you got off the bus?" he asked.

Hermione froze. "I was going to ask… well, that is…" She paused. "Don't change the subject!"

"You know, I was flipping through _Mary Poppins_ yesterday and found a few, er, _errors_ in our conversation yesterday."

"You…?" Hermione hung her head. "What?"

"Well, first of all, it wasn't her _uncle's_ birthday, it was _her_ birthday, and the Hamadryad was her _cousin_. Or, rather, her first cousin once removed on her mother's side." He paused, as if waiting for her to say something. "But I admit she probably wasn't a parsel tongue, because apparently she only talks to snakes and other animals when her birthday falls on a full moon. Well, mostly anyway."

"All right…" Hermione said.

"And secondly, you were right, there wasn't a parasol. It was just the photograph on the cover. Besides, she took that parrot umbrella with her everywhere, probably rain or shine. Sound familiar?"

"A bit…" Hermione said, still a little confused by the sudden topic change.

"And it didn't say she was unattractive. It merely says that she's thin with large feet and tiny blue eyes."

"So I remembered a few things wrong," she admitted. "I'm not perfect."

"You very nearly are so," Malfoy said, resting his chin in his hand. "What was it you were going to ask me yesterday?" he repeated.

Hermione paused, and took in a breath. "I was going to ask…" If she was going to broach the topic, she might as well go full-steam ahead. "Do you think you'd ever consider having children that weren't pureblood?"

"You mean, having them with someone who's less than _perfect_ herself?"

"I don't think I'd use that exact wording, but…" She trailed off.

He held up a hand to stop her. "Maybe."

"Maybe?" she asked.

"Yes, maybe. And to answer your question about my intentions, well, all I can say is this." He stopped. "Tomorrow, instead of going home, why don't you come to Diagon Alley with me? You can sample some ice cream with me, and then… we'll go on a date."

"A…" Hermione's mouth fell right open. "A date?"

"Don't look so surprised. I don't hand out roses to just anyone, you know."

"Okay," Hermione answered.

"So it's a date?" he asked.

Hermione nodded. "It is indeed."

He placed his hand on her shoulder. "Lovely." She wasn't entirely sure if he was referring to her answer or to _her_. He was staring at her calves again, after all.

"Well, there's the bus!" Hermione declared, a little more breathlessly than she had planned. She was going on a date with Draco Malfoy tomorrow! She was… What was she going to wear? What was she going to tell her _friends_?

Malfoy closed his umbrella as he joined the queue, and Hermione closed her parasol. His hand moved and found hers, and a jolt of excitement passed through her. His hand was warm and large on top of hers. "You're shaking," he observed, as they got onto the bus and found their seats.

"Am I?" she asked.

"You act as if you've never been asked on a date before."

Hermione didn't answer at first. "Well, it has been awhile."

He smirked. "I bet your aunt will be rather pleased, don't you?"

She laughed nervously. "I suppose so." She moved the peach rose up and under her nose and took a good long sniff. When the bus halted at her stop, Malfoy let go of her hand.

"Tomorrow?" he asked.

"Tomorrow." Hermione left the bus, her cheeks glowing brightly.

A.N.: Yes, chapter five is the final chapter, and it will include the date. Yippee! Sorry this took so long.

Oh, also,

Disclaimer: I do not own nor claim _Mary Poppins_, the work of P.L. Travers.


	5. Part Nine

Bus Stop—Part Nine

By Marmalade Fever

(Thursday)

Hermione's aunt Hattie sent her a knowing wink from over her playing cards. "Darling, was it simply my poor eyesight, or did you and the young gentleman hold hands yesterday?" Her sweet little face was scrunched into the epitome of innocence.

Hermione nodded. "As a matter of fact… we're going on a date today."

Bursting with a buzz of energy that, by all means, should not have belonged to a woman of Hattie's age, the old woman hopped to her feet, spun around in a circle, and clicked her heels together. "Oh… oh… oh…" By the time the woman sat down, Hermione was dizzy just from watching her. "I knew it! I just knew it!"

Hermione smiled nervously. "Did you?"

Hattie fanned herself with the three of hearts, beaming. "Yes, dear, I did." She looked over to the clock on the wall. "You had better be going. You don't want to leave him waiting." She had almost managed to herd Hermione through the door before she stopped to ask a question. "What's his name, dear? He looks like a William to me."

Hermione blushed ever so slightly. "His name is Draco. Draco Malfoy."

Her aunt tutted. "Very odd. No matter. Off you go, dear." And Hermione was out the door before she could say another word.

The temperature had risen, and she walked with the sun shining down onto her shoulders. She reached the end of the sidewalk and slowed. She had arrived at the bus stop first, it would seem. She opened up her parasol, only feeling slightly embarrassed by it. Now all she had to do was wait for _him_. A few muggles passed her on the sidewalk, two of them crossing the street together.

"Good morning." And there he was, walking at a leisurely gait down the sidewalk from the other direction. He was wearing brown pants and a white button-up shirt. But something was awry.

"Where's your umbrella?" she asked, a little surprised that he didn't have it with him.

Malfoy… _Draco_ shrugged. "I decided, simply, that we don't need it anymore."

"We…" Hermione frowned. "We don't? What about our tradition?"

"Unnecessary. The ice has melted between us. There's no more sheltering now." With that, he gently took her parasol, closed it, and handed it back to her.

"I see."

He grinned. "Don't you just adore complicated metaphors?"

"I'm Hermione Granger. Of course I do." He moved closer to her, picked up her hand, and squeezed it. Her heart beat faster.

"That's the best argument I've ever heard come out of your mouth."

She laughed a tiny, nervous little laugh. "I'll have to use it more often, then."

"By gum… I think you might be flirting with me, Granger. I'll write that down in my diary, right after the entry where you asked me my intentions."

"You keep a diary?"

He wiggled his eyebrows. "Wouldn't you like to know? _August 1st: Today Granger flirted with me. It was a sorry attempt, but I found it enjoyable, nonetheless._"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I am _so_ glad I amuse you so."

"I thought you would be. I'm quite interested in knowing what the rest of the passage will say."

Hermione cleared her throat. "_Then I made fun of her for her flirting ability, and she punched me in the stomach._ How about that?"

"I don't think it's very likely to happen now that you've warned me," he mused. "_Later I kissed her, and she made the most adorable purring sound._ How about that?"

Hermione's eyes went wide. "I don't think it's very likely to happen now that you've warned _me_."

He looked at her out of the corner of his eye. "Don't be too sure." Hermione squirmed slightly, finding it suddenly a little hard to swallow. "Merlin but your red," he added, smirking. "But it is only fitting."

Hermione's blush slowly dissipated as she scrunched her face up. "What do you mean?"

"Close your eyes and I'll show you."

Hermione blushed even harder. "I don't know if that's the best idea."

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Merlin, Granger, just close them for a couple seconds." Hermione raised an eyebrow at him before slowly closing her eyes. What he was up to was beyond her, and she half wondered if she should be doing something with her lips, puckering them or something. "You can open them now." She opened one eye, then the other slowly. "My lady."

"Oh…" she said and took the proffered red rose from him. She sniffed it, and that little candle inside of her beamed. "Thank you." She smiled up at him.

"You're an easy one to please," he commented, stretching his arms up over his head leisurely.

Hermione couldn't help herself and giggled. She couldn't get over how gentlemanly he was acting, for the most part. "Should I ask where you were hiding this?" she asked, referring to the rose.

He shook his head. "Ah, but a great magician never reveals his secrets."

Hermione smirked a little. "That's a funny thing to say considering where we went to school."

"But don't you forget about my anklet either," he reminded her, winking.

Hermione sighed. "And I suppose that my theory about the wand in your umbrella must have been false, considering you don't have it with you today," she said, dropping her tone so the surrounding muggles wouldn't overhear her.

He shrugged noncommittally. "I do believe the bus is nearly here," he told her, grabbing hold of her shoulders and physically turning her so that she could see. The number fifty-two came to a rolling stop before them. "Do you still think fifty-two is an unlucky number for you?" he asked as they queued up.

"I suppose not," she answered.

"And I suppose it's all thanks to little old me?" Malfoy asked, pushing some of his blond hair from his eyes dashingly.

"You do give yourself airs, don't you?" Hermione ducked under his arm and onto the bus ahead of him. She flashed her bus pass and sat down next to a window, Malfoy sitting down beside her.

"Like I would answer such a sarcastic question." He stretched his arm over the back of the seat and slowly dropped it onto her shoulder.

"Very smooth," she teased.

"I'm a Malfoy. I'm nothing if not suave." Very slowly he moved his hand so that he was fingering one of her haphazard curls. "Your hair is crinkly."

"Is that a compliment or an insult?" Hermione was very slowly relaxing into the seat and tried not to mind that he had scooted himself right up next to her today, their legs brushing together.

"That's an observation. Do you use conditioner?"

Hermione nearly laughed out loud. "Yes. Do you?"

"Of course. And in the future, please answer all applicable questions with '_I'm Hermione Granger. Of course I do_.'"

Her face turned to mock-seriousness. "Oh, I _will_."

He nodded smartly. "Good. Now I just have to think of an applicable question."

Hermione feigned worry. "Oh dear. What have I gotten myself into now?"

He grinned evilly. "Do you… eat cockroach clusters daily?"

"I'm Hermione Granger. _Of course I do_," she replied, rolling her eyes at him. He laughed, still twirling her hair around his index finger.

"Do you have a tea cozy collection?"

"You're a bizarre little man."

"Just answer the question, Granger."

Hermione sighed. "I'm Hermione Granger. Of course I do," she said. "Because tea cozies are just that interesting to collect," she added, her tone dripping sarcasm.

Malfoy tapped his chin, thinking. "Do you… get butterflies in your stomach when you look at me?"

Hermione blushed. "Er…"

He smiled. "Please answer?" He wrapped her hair around his finger and gave it a gentle tug.

"I'm Hermione Granger. Of course I do," she mumbled, blushing even harder. "Now stop asking silly questions, you prat." She swatted his knee.

He pretended to look hurt. The bus slowed to a stop. "Well, here's your stop. I must say I'm pleased you aren't getting off today."

"Are you?" she asked.

"I'm Draco Malfoy. Of course I am." He nodded succinctly.

"I do declare, I think you get butterflies from looking at _me_," Hermione teased.

He scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous. I get _moths_. Much more masculine."

"Oh, I'm sure." Hermione couldn't help it and smiled. "That's my house just over there," she said, pointing down the street to her little one story house.

He wrinkled his nose. "Hmm…"

"Hmm?" she asked.

"It's a bit small for my taste," he replied. "But I suppose it will have to do. It's not as if you'll be living there all that much longer."

Hermione frowned. "What on Earth do you mean by that?"

Malfoy rubbed his chin. "We'll see."

"Huh?"

Malfoy patted her knee. "Just never you mind about that."

"You're positively infuriating, I hope you know," Hermione said, just staring at him. "Now please, tell me."

He sighed and ran one hand through his hair. "We're twenty-eight," he said, as if that was all she needed to know.

"_Yes_, and?" She crossed her arms.

He plucked one of her hands from her and squeezed it, his thumb gently caressing her knuckle. "And if all goes well, I'd like to get a move on, don't you?"

Hermione's mouth dropped open a degree. "Are you saying what I think you're saying, _on our first date?_" She could hardly believe it.

He shrugged. "What do you think I'm saying?"

Hermione just sat there sputtering for a good thirty seconds. "It sounds as if you're saying that you want to," she dropped her voice so she merely mouthed "marry me."

"Yeah, that's about right. So?"

She gulped so hard she started to cough. "Excuse me?"

"Hey, you're the one who was talking about _children_," he said.

"Yeah, but… Oh, sweet Merlin, no one's going to believe me when I tell them about this..."

He smirked widely. "Mind if I watch when you do?"

She snorted. "Sure, _why not?_" She breathed harshly, in and out. "I feel faint."

At this he looked concerned. "Want me to open a window?" She nodded and he reached across her to slide their window upward. The light breeze hit her face and she breathed a little easier. "Good grief, Granger. What are you going to do when I propose for real? Die?"

"When?" she squeaked. It wasn't even an if; it was a when!

"What? You don't think it's going to go well?" he asked coolly.

"Well, I, um…"

"Take it easy," he said. "You can put your head on my shoulder if you'd like." Before she could even think, he'd gently pushed her head onto his shoulder for her. She stayed like that, just trying to control her breathing, until he announced that they had arrived at the Leaky Cauldron.

They left the bus, he still holding her hand, and stepped down onto the sidewalk, just a little bit away from the Leaky Cauldron. The muggles that exited with them slid their eyes right over the pub and paid them no attention as the two strolled in. It was dark and only a few patrons sat at tables, drinking mead. "Morning Tom," Malfoy greeted, waving at the barkeep who was busy polishing a glass.

"Mornin' Mr. Malfoy. Miss Granger, isn't it?" he asked, before shrugging and going back to his work. It seemed to dawn on Hermione that they had left Muggle London. Anyone they knew might see them together now. It frightened and excited her at once. Malfoy led them through the back door.

"Well, seeing how I'm wandless, I'll let you do the honors," he said, gesturing to the brick wall. Hermione nodded and tapped the necessary bricks. Almost instantly Diagon Alley unfolded in front of them. "And now for the more boring part of our date, in which I go to work." He squeezed her hand as she looked up and down the street, looking for any familiar faces. No one seemed to have noticed that they were holding hands or that he had just used the word date in reference to themselves. He led her into the ice cream parlor.

Florean Fortescue waved cheerfully. "Hello Draco, you're just in time. I just finished the final touches to something and could use your expertise." He rushed into the kitchen and returned a moment later with a small scoop of a very strange looking ice cream. Florean stood with hands clasped in suspense while Malfoy made a fine act of sloshing the ice cream around in his mouth, as if he were wine tasting.

"Nutty… pistachio? A hint of cinnamon… no, cardamom. And…" Malfoy looked surprised. "Pineapple? Pistachio, cardamom and pineapple?" He licked his spoon. "It's a winner," he said, and clapped his employer on the back. Florean looked positively ecstatic. "Call it… pinachiamom."

"Excellent," Florean replied, grinning. "I was a little worried it wouldn't go over…"

"No, no. It's really very good. Want a taste?" he asked, turning to Hermione.

"Well…"

"Oh, of course! I'll get you a spoon," Florean volunteered. He left and came back a second later and watched Hermione's reaction carefully.

"Yum," she said, almost more so because the man looked like he was desperate for approval than because she thought it was good.

"You really like it?" he asked. Hermione nodded. "Good. Don't I know you?"

"Well," she began, "I have been here before…"

"She's Hermione Granger," Malfoy interrupted. "You know… Harry Potter's friend."

"Oh, of course…" The ice cream man smiled. "Well, you might as well leave early, Draco."

Malfoy turned and grinned at her. "I love my job," he said, "especially when I only have to be here for three minutes."

Hermione laughed at this. "Well, that's good."

"Let's go, shall we?" he asked, offering her his arm. They left the ice cream parlor and reemerged onto the bustling street. He checked his watch. "I suppose it's close enough to lunch time to get something to eat. Sound good?"

"Sounds very good," Hermione answered. She hadn't eaten much breakfast that morning, having been all nerves and no appetite. They walked through the crowd, dodging the different shoppers, and ultimately went into a restaurant called The Top Hat. The sign above its doorway depicted a white rabbit dodging in and out of a black top hat.

The restaurant was dark and lit by candles, which struck Hermione as strange considering it wasn't even noon yet. Malfoy placed his hand carefully on the small of her back and steered her forward to the host. "Malfoy, party of two," he said, a hint of smugness in his voice as the host checked the list of reservations and nodded.

"Right this way, sir, madam," the man said. He was wearing tuxedo style robes and, fittingly, a silk top hat. He seated them at a private booth by a window overlooking a magically depicted garden scene.

"This is… nice," Hermione said, blushing a little. She was horribly underdressed, wearing another sundress from her shopping trip the day before. Malfoy, apparently, didn't seem to mind so long as he had a nice view of her calves, though they were presently tucked safely away beneath the tablecloth.

A waiter wearing an outfit matching the host's appeared, introduced himself as Gerard, handed them their menus, and left them to their own devices.

Malfoy surveyed his menu and Hermione turned to her own, jumping slightly when his hand reached across the table to trail his fingers across her arm. "So…" she said, as she finally decided that she'd have the house salad.

"So?" he asked, not looking up.

"I'm still having a little trouble believing that we're… well, on a date," she said, taking a quick sip of lemon water.

Malfoy shrugged. "Stranger things have happened, I assure you."

"True." She squirmed in her seat a little.

He paused to tap his chin for a second. "I have a question for you."

"Do you?"

"I do. Here it is: do you like my hair this way?"

Hermione hid a snort behind her hand. "I'm Hermione Granger…"

"Of course you do," Malfoy finished for her. He grinned. "But really, you don't think it's too long?" His hair was just starting to curl around his ears.

"No, it's good at that length." Hermione smiled, relaxing into the situation slightly.

"You know…" he began, "I have a little confession for you."

"And what is that?" Hermione asked, tucking some of her erstwhile hair behind her ear.

Malfoy sighed. "I never disliked your hair."

Hermione's mouth fell open just a little. "No?"

"In fact, I really rather like it. It just needs to be shaped a little is all," he said. Something about his tone sent a chill running down her spine.

"You mean that when you used to refer to me as the 'bushy-haired mudblood,' you didn't think of the bushy-haired part as an actual negative?"

"Not particularly." Malfoy removed his hand from her arm. "Where is that waiter anyway?" As if on cue, Gerard came up, took their orders, waved his wand, and food and drink appeared before them.

"You really have changed," Hermione commented when the waiter was out of sight.

"Like I said, everyone changes." He took up his knife and fork and began to cut up his pork chop.

"In your case, I'm glad." Hermione stabbed a cherry tomato with her fork and ate it.

"Why do I get this weird feeling like you're about to fish for an apology from me?" he asked.

Hermione squinted. "How'd you know?"

"I'm a great and powerful being. Or not. Anyway, I guess I should say I'm sorry, especially if I'm still hoping for 'all to go well.'"

"You never cease to amaze me."

"Thank you. I'll take that as a compliment. I am, from now on, Draco Malfoy: the Great Amazer of Granger."

"I don't think Amazer is a word," she objected.

"Yeah, but it sounded really nice with the Granger part."

Hermione laughed. "Well, in that case. Apology accepted, O Great Amazer of Granger."

Malfoy smiled and continued eating his pork chop, and Hermione ate some more of her incredibly large romaine and Gorgonzola salad. "How is it?" she asked.

"Not bad. The apricot sauce is just the right amount of sweet and tangy," he replied.

"It seems strange," Hermione mused, "that you didn't get a choice of soup or salad as a starter."

"A bit," he agreed, "but I, for one, actually enjoy finishing my entire meal. When you do get a salad or soup, you're always too stuffed to really enjoy the entrée."

Hermione nodded. "But then you also end up without any vegetables. Fiber is important, you know. And vitamins as well."

"You aren't about to lecture me on roughage, are you?" He raised one of his eyebrows at her. "Because I do plan on eating some cellulose later on in the day."

"I guess I can't complain then." Hermione set her fork down. "And I can't eat another bite. I'm fit to burst."

Malfoy reached across the table and speared a lettuce leaf with his fork. "See? Now I'm eating my vegetables."

Hermione laughed as he ate it. "Well, at least I know you aren't afraid of my germs."

"You have germs? Be honest, is it good bacteria, bad, or some of both?" he asked. He took a swig of his water.

"Some of both, I'd think."

Malfoy stopped and looked at her for a long moment. "You know, I'm really not."

"Not what?" she asked. Her arms had goosebumps that she couldn't quite explain.

He scooted around the booth so that he was right up next to her. "Afraid of your germs," he said, and, before she could quite comprehend what was happening, he'd leaned in over her so that they were nose to nose. "Quite the opposite." His hand went up to tuck her hair behind her ear before he closed the gap between them with a kiss. Hermione's breath hitched within her chest as his lips moved deftly over hers, but he pulled away before she had a real chance to respond.

"I'm glad," she whispered. They smiled at one another, and he gave her hand a squeeze.

The check came, and Malfoy paid. "So," he said, as they walked hand in hand back to the bus stop in front of the Leaky Cauldron, "do you want to do this again some time?"

She blushed. "I'm Hermione Granger. Of course I do."

"Me too, minus the being Hermione Granger part." Malfoy gave her one of his trademark smirks. "Thank your aunt for setting us up, will you?"

"Oh, I will." Hermione clutched at the parasol and the red rose in one hand, and his hand in the other. But she had one last question for him, one that had been nagging at her since she had first started to realize she might, just might, have a crush on him. "That first day at the bus stop last week," she said, slowly, "when you said that you don't sacrifice quality…"

"You mean from our conversation about gum?" he asked, looking down at her. She nodded, looking away from him. Malfoy made a tutting sound. "Oh, Granger… I also said you were nearly perfect. And Sweetheart… no one's perfect."

Hermione's heart skipped a beat. "Did you just call me…?"

"Well, I haven't gotten the hang of calling you by your first name yet, so I thought I'd try something else. You like it?" He kissed her knuckles.

Hermione honestly wasn't sure why, but she felt an inexplicable urge to start crying, and, indeed, her throat closed up a little. So she nodded.

"Something wrong?" he asked.

"No," she managed to say, though her throat wasn't cooperating. "It's just that… all went well."

He smiled, leaned down, and kissed her again. And this time, she purred.

The End

A.N.: I kept adding more and more to the end because it just didn't sound quite right, but I'm pretty pleased with it now. Unless I'm mistaken, this is the longest chapter I have ever written. 11 pages! Well, my dears, it's been fun.

Yours truly,

Marmalade Fever


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